


Blade On A Butterfly

by wordsliketeeth



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Acting, Angst, Confessions, Developing Relationship, Dominance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fictional Sadistic TV Role (Ryuu), Fluff, Happy Ending, He Also Fucks Like He Dances, New Beginnings, Power Play, Rough Sex, Ryuu Is A Cinnamon Roll Trying To Be A Sinnamon Roll, Smut, Teasing, Time Skips, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "You stare at the calendar on the wall and needlessly count the days that you've been working with TRIGGER: it's been exactly one month. It's hard to believe considering all of the things you've accomplished in such a relatively short time. Not to mention, how much things have changed since your first day on the job." While working as a lyricist for Yaotome Productions, you're forced to decide what's more important: upholding a level of professionalism or following your heart.
Relationships: Takanashi Tsumugi/Yaotome Gaku, Tsunashi Ryuunosuke/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Blade On A Butterfly

One week ago, you were lost for days on the interstate. You drove past numerous dying motels and through so many sleeping cities that you couldn’t tell morning from the dark. The days were short and the nights were long, and you couldn’t seem to find a place where you felt like you belonged. Your eyes were heavy from lack of sleep and your body ached in the places that remained still. Eventually, you turned off at an exit that called you home and once downtown, the bar lights illuminated your car. You chased the glow of blue and purple with your fingertips and sang quietly to yourself as every red light burned your eyes. You began to see shadows in the back seat and hear voices inside your head. You tried to pull yourself together but the road only grew longer and you felt like you were spread out on the pavement, bleeding yourself dry.

Then something happened that you still can’t entirely wrap your head around—something tantamount to a miracle.

After procuring an affordable apartment, with all the utilitarian plainness of the landlord supplying it, you wandered the streets aimlessly looking for a job. A large building, constructed out of more glass than masonry, or so it seemed, caught your attention. The sun beamed down on the many windows to form a bright halo of gold, almost as if highlighting the city's nucleus. You found yourself pulled in the direction of the building by invisible strings, feet moving on autopilot.

You stared at the sign on the building's front door, your body swathed in a shadow so large you felt as though it was a monster just waiting to snap its maw shut and swallow you whole. You weren't confident that you knew the full load of responsibility that came with being an archivist but you thought yourself capable enough. You tugged open one of two entrance doors, each an extension of the building's looming darkness and stepped inside—somehow missing the neat vinyl letters spanning the door's polished glass.

Once inside, everything moved in short order: a security check, an elevator ride to the fourth floor, redirected by a receptionist to the third floor, another elevator ride, ten minutes spent waiting in an empty room, save for a trying typist, a brief conversation with a short, breathless man, another wait, then finally, the interview that would change everything.

You exited the building and stepped back out onto the sun-warm pavement with shaky knees. Your heart was thundering in your chest and excitement was branching like lightning through your veins. You had left behind a half-consumed cup of coffee and an aggregate of apologies. However, thanks to a phenomenon some call serendipity, the interview had segued into a discussion about your avocation of poetry—something you never thought would be seen as anything more than substandard.

Fast-forward to the present moment; if someone should ask, you could truthfully say that you're in the care of Yaotome Productions working as a lyricist. Furthermore, your first assignment is to work closely with the members of TRIGGER. It's a fate almost too good to be true and you're still wondering if it's all some kind of elaborate prank.

You drape a sheet over the musty sofa left behind by the previous tenants, indebted to the accuracy of your foresight to bring a spare set. You begin to visualize the potential design of your new furniture, bright and modern, and without the unpleasant aroma of a squalid hovel. You sit down and reach for the cup of tea positioned on a makeshift table. It's milk-warm at best but you make do, too preoccupied with other things to pay much attention to anything but the half-inch binder beside you. You open the plastic and cardboard cover and skim over the neat typeface with curious eyes. The first few pages are similar to those of other companies, and much to your chagrin, you remind yourself to properly read each page later. However, beyond the introductory pages, you find a list of requirements that are unique to the company and your new position.

The pages are separated into three sections, one for each member of TRIGGER. You settle into a more comfortable position and begin reading each segment with a keen sense of focus. You learn a wide variety of details such as; Tenn enjoys chewing on sugarcane, Gaku likes collecting bath powders, and Ryuunosuke doesn't handle cold weather very well. You immerse yourself in their profiles, abandoning your tea and losing sight of time. You learn everything you can about them, memorizing every little detail that might come in hand—quite literally—when you're scrawling lyrics out across the pages of a blank notebook.

You read until your vision loses focus and weary tears sting the corners of your eyes. You fall asleep curled up on the sofa, your neck bent at an uncomfortable angle, holding the binder like a lover in your arms. It's a miracle you manage to stay asleep, and by the time you crack open your eyes, the sun is stretching out across the floor to touch you with its welcoming warmth. You groan yourself into awareness and pull your body upright, a hand going to the back of your neck. You try to rub the tension out of your muscles and note the deep lines on your arms, red indentations made by the binder's perimeter.

You search the sofa for your phone and find it cradled in the sheet between the cushions. You check the time and exhale a breath of relief. The last thing you want is to make a bad first impression, and arriving in yesterday's clothes and makeup would likely do the trick.

You stumble into motion and make your way down your only hallway. You leave a trail of clothing along the way and reach the bathroom clad in your undergarments. You yawn widely and turn the faucet to hot, wincing as air rattles the pipes and a fitful spate of water shakes the handheld showerhead. You test the temperature, unsurprised to find it lukewarm but grateful that it's clear. You strip the last layers of fabric from your body and step inside the cubical.

Whatever lasting fragments of sleep you had have been washed down the drain by the time you're finished. You're shivering with cold, wishing that you would have had the foresight to bring a change of clothes in with you. Your hair is a tangle of knots and there's still a thin layer of makeup on your face. You look in the mirror and up at the crack in its corner, a thoughtful expression overtaking your features.

“One thing at a time,” you say aloud. You collect a variety of items and lay them out on the sink, forcing one positive thought per item and ending with: _today will be a good day._

* * *

You stare at the calendar on the wall and needlessly count the days that you've been working with TRIGGER: it's been exactly one month. It's hard to believe considering all of the things you've accomplished in such a relatively short time. Not to mention, how much things have changed since your first day on the job.

The once turbulent atmosphere has ebbed into a state of stability, or at least, a mode you can manage given your position. The job is most certainly fast-paced and you seldom have time to take a break, but it makes the hours fly by and you don't mind burning the candle at both ends if it means that you'll continue to succeed. You've been complimented by Anesagi and other employees for your outstanding performance—and while their acknowledgment alone is enough of a reward, you've been further praised by Tenn, Gaku, and Ryuu.

You hadn't known what to expect but being a supporter of the group, you anticipated Tenn and Gaku to be the hardest to thaw. But with equal amounts of professionalism and compassion, the willingness to help, and a renewed level of understanding, it didn't take long for them to warm up to you at all.

You listened to Tenn's requests and suggestions, and within two hours of speaking with him, you were spilling verbal proposals on how to better advertise and promote TRIGGER right into his lap. You even went over and above with a computer presentation replete in its comprehensive recommendations on how to refresh their image and make them stand out against their competition.

You knew you were crossing into a separate territory, and you found yourself growing anxious at Tenn's inscrutable expression, made worse by a wall of silence. For a moment, you wondered if you should have left the aforementioned in the hands of the originators. You were told, however, to do whatever it took to gain TRIGGER's trust and approval, to get close to them to achieve a greater understanding of their personalities. Altogether, it made perfect sense: creating lyrics capable of reflecting the true nature of the artist meant comprehending said individual's beliefs, charms, and basic temperament.

Then Tenn did something that he'd never done in your sole company before: he laughed. Initially, you worried that he was making fun of you but as soon as he was on his feet, he was commending your close attention to detail and your vibrant imagination. It was the first time he awarded you with admiration and it made you want to aim even higher. You spoke to him about potential song ideas and set up an impromptu interview to get to know him better.

When it came to Gaku, you took a different approach. You knew of the rising tensions between himself and his father, a witness to several heated discussions yourself. It was a known fact Gaku could do nothing to escape with his father being the president of Yaotome Productions, so you did the only thing you could do in such a situation. You began pursuing negotiations by acting as an intermediary, while also working to snuff out the plague of the proverbial smoking chimney that had blistered their family ties.

Furthermore, after spending a day with Tsumugi to learn more about TRIGGER's competition, you let slip that Gaku's personal feelings for her just _might_ supersede his professional principles. Anyone with the gift of sight could see that Gaku looked at her differently, but it wasn't until Tenn and Ryuu confirmed your suspicions that you proceeded to push for the promising relationship. You knew that a certain voice of consanguinity wouldn't approve of the exchange but it was only one date, and if you just so happened to be the flame to light the match, then so be it. It was Gaku's happiness on the line, after all, and one only performs their best when at their best.

You had marked Ryuu the easiest after you were told that his persona was the complete opposite of the image he'd been painted in. You were skeptical at first but it quickly became clear to you that Ryuu was very good at his job. His public depiction was convincing but the information you had received was nothing short of the truth. If anything, Ryuu was the most patient and empathetic, possessing a sort of naivete and charm that made you feel as though you'd known each other for years. Perhaps it came from growing up with his siblings but he made you feel welcome immediately, and despite being modest at times, you formed a bond with Ryuu the quickest out of the three members.

You spent many hours with Ryuu, teaching him choreography that flowed naturally with the lyrics you wrote for him. During those hours, you shared little details about your lives and stories from your pasts. Ryuu was permissive and unpretentious, whether it was shaking through fits of laughter or trembling at a precious memory, you felt at ease with him.

At this moment, as you reflect on the time you've spent with each member, you smile to yourself. Things have been steadily improving and you can only hope that they continue to do so.

And when you go home for the night, you finally feel accepted; and being needed is what you've always wanted, making this the first time you've ever felt like you're _truly_ where you belong.

* * *

You get a message four days later that Anesagi is going on vacation and you've been chosen to fill the role of TRIGGER's manager until Anesagi returns. You're momentarily stymied by a deluge of stress and taken by the storm, heart thundering in your chest and an ocean of blood rushing in your ears. Your effort is credited as not only laudable but begotten of the most constructive results in recent years. In addition, your self-discipline and diligence have proved beneficial to the company and each member of TRIGGER. Your influence has imbued the group with motivation and your zeal, once scoffed at, has spread through the other employees like a contagion of ardent interest.

Upon hearing this, the squall threatening to overtake your confidence ebbs into placidity. You take a deep breath and assure yourself that you can handle the position. You just hope that Gaku, Tenn, and Ryuu feel the same way.

* * *

Two days have passed since you took up Anesagi's post and it's been both a blessing and a curse. To say that you've gotten three hours of sleep each night would be a generous statement. You've been up to your ears in work, juggling assignments, handling phone calls, and drowning in paperwork as dry as the ink in your pens. Not to mention, going to recitals, dance rehearsals, and photo shoots to dole out whatever means are mandatory for profit and progress. On the other hand, you're making great strides with the group. The long hours you've been spending together are bringing you closer, acting as compensation for your lack of sleep. If losing a few hours a night lays the foundation for heartfelt lyrics that reflect each male personally, you're more than happy to chase the stars into the sun.

Which is just what you do.

You sit up late at night, occasionally glancing at the stars visible through the pollution that clings to your windows. You prop yourself up against the stack of pillows you purchased with your last paycheck, your hand going numb from overuse. You scrawl page after page of poetry in hopes that the verses stick. Your thoughts move like spiders, each spinning their own intricate threads until the dark recess of your mind is so thick with webs of gossamer that you can't find room for a single belief.

A cramp shoots through your wrist and you're finally forced to put down your pen. You know it would be easier to do all of this on a computer but you prefer to do things the old-fashioned way. You massage your thumb over the tendons in your wrist and exhale a breath that sounds as fatigued as you feel. You rub your eyes to clear away the fog and slip beneath your blankets in a halfhearted attempt to tuck yourself in.

You stare out the window and at the skyline, stretching beyond the boundary of the wooden frame in the colors of a fresh bruise. Time passes and the birds begin to sing as the sky appears to heal itself, the blemish of night dissolving as the rays of the sun fall across your skin, like a restorative.

You toss and turn in the morning light, seeing the shadows of a foreign man when you close your eyes. He whispers close to your ear until you can't make out the hum of your thoughts, and it does little in the way of guiding you to the inky spill of the deep. You wade through the satin waters of slumber, fingertips grazing the ether as you dance with the ghostly wisps that fill half the cosmos.

You fall asleep thirty minutes before your alarm shakes you into awareness.

* * *

Three days before Anesagi's return, you get a text from Ryuu asking for your help. It's peculiar timing, considering you were just thinking about the way he was looking at you during dance practice. His expression was unusually hard to read with an ambiguous half-smile on his lips and a look of trepidation in his eyes. It's not enough to instill you with concern but something doesn't feel exactly right just the same.

You slip back into the clothes you just removed and grab the bag you made after being hired for this position. It's packed with anything you could possibly need should a range of situations arise, including, sweets for Tenn, a stress ball for Gaku, and a pair of winter gloves for Ryuu.

You travel the short distance to Ryuu's despite his insistence that he come to you and knock on his door. You're mid-rap when he flings it open and you're so startled by the sudden action that you almost trip over the threshold. He reaches out to grip your shoulders with strong hands to steady you, an apology writing itself out across his face.

“Are you okay?” you ask simultaneously.

You smile and Ryuu huffs a breath of laughter that emits subtle notes of alcohol. “Why wouldn't I be?” he asks and runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in several different directions at once.

You eye his messy strands and press your lips together in a tight line. Ryuu tracks your gaze and heaves a sigh of despair. “Okay. Things aren't going exactly as I'd hoped.” He steps to the side of the entrance and holds the door open in a gesture of welcome. You step into his residence and kick off your shoes. You set your bag down on the polished floorboards and line your flats up next to his collection of footwear.

“What's going on?” you ask him, injecting as much positive energy as you can muster into the question.

“It's this new role,” he starts, padding across shiny walnut floorboards in sock-clad feet. “I just can't get a” –he picks up the script and waves it around as he struggles to piece together what he wants to say– “grip on what I'm supposed to do. I'm not overly familiar with how supernatural teen dramas work.”

“I forgot that was this week!” you blurt, smacking your palm against your forehead. “I can't believe I missed it! I've checked the schedule at least four times today.” You turn to make for your bag but Ryuu catches you by your shirt sleeve.

“It's okay,” he says, the affirmation shaking apart under a trill of amusement. “You've had a lot on your plate lately.”

“That's no excuse,” you tell him, frowning. “I should be up to speed on what's going on. Have you filmed anything yet? Did the studio make you sign any contracts? It's my job to escort you to the location...” you ramble, pacing in front of Ryuu and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You've been doing great. That's why I called you. I knew I could count on you to help me.” Ryuu realizes that he's started pacing with you and steps in front of you to cut off your stride. “If it comforts you at all, I haven't signed anything and filming, well...” he trails off and diverts his gaze, laughing uncomfortably. “It kind of had to be stopped for the day because I didn't fully understand my role.”

You shake off the mental weight of your err and give Ryuu your full attention. “Was it that bad?” you ask, surprised. Ryuu looks at you like he's been physically cut by your words and you quickly wave a hand to dispel the confusion. “I don't mean you. I mean the role.” You collect yourself and recall the details surrounding his character. “You're supposed to trick the lead's best friend into trusting you, right?”

“Right,” Ryuu confirms. “And then I'm supposed to kill her.” He knits his brows together and frowns, turning his gaze toward the floor. “But I don't kill her. I change my mind and keep her as a pet instead.” He looks up and meets your eyes. “Why would the protagonist want to keep a person as a pet? Is she actually an animal?”

You bite back the amusement that dances in the dark of your throat and smile. “If I've learned anything about you in the time that I've been working with TRIGGER, and I like to think that I have, then it's safe to say that this character really isn't like you at all.” You sit on the flat edge of a sofa and fold your hands in your lap out of habit. “Okay,” you begin, breathing out slowly. “So you understand that you're playing the role of the bad guy here, right?” you ask, and Ryuu nods in agreement. “And you know that your character is a sadist?”

“Yeah, he's like an evil magician who worships the devil,” Ryuu answers, looking more forlorn by the minute.

“N-no,” you stammer, shaking your head. “That's a Satanist...mostly. A sadist is like...someone who enjoys inflicting pain on others. They find happiness in being cruel.”

Ryuu's eyes light up and his lips part for breath as a flicker of understanding passes over his features. “That makes sense now. I guess I'll have to explain my confusion to the director tomorrow so he doesn't think I'm into the Dark Arts.”

You open your mouth to intervene but think better of it. Then: “Wait. Haven't you memorized your lines?”

Ryuu catches his bottom lip between the edges of his teeth and lets it spring free after a brief moment of rumination. “Yeah, but when we start getting close to the more intimate parts I can't remember them. That's what I need help with. That, and understanding why this terrible person even wants a pet.”

You close your eyes and feel a crease settle in along the line of your brow. When you open your eyes Ryuu is rubbing his chin, a mannerism that suggests that he's deep in thought.

“Ryuu,” you say, rousing him from his reverie. “She's not _actually_ an animal.” You brush a stray section of hair away from your face before continuing. “The role that you're filling is about a sadistic man who just so happens to also be an assassin. He sets out to kill the main character's best friend but unexpectedly catches feelings for her. Not knowing how to deal with these feelings, he decides to keep her holed up in his place until he realizes that he's actually fond of her.”

“Wow,” Ryuu utters suddenly. “And this all happens in a single episode? Teen dramas sure have a lot going on.”

“You're not kidding,” you say and laugh. “It's certainly going to be a wild ride. Are you understanding your part any better though?”

“I think so,” is Ryuu's answer, yet, his voice still lacks persuasive confidence. He parts his lips like he wants to attach something to the statement but he closes his mouth when he meets your gaze.

“What is it?” you ask, concern shaping the inflection of your tone.

“It's nothing,” Ryuu says and shakes his head. “You wouldn't want to.”

You furrow your brow and slip off the edge of the sofa. “You haven't asked me. How can you be so sure?”

“It's just that...” Ryuu looks nervous and the faintest hint of pink begins to creep into his cheeks. “I know that you're closer to Gaku and Tenn so it's easier for you to work with them. I don't want you to feel obligated to help me or put you in a situation that makes you feel uncomfortable...”

“Who said I was closer to Gaku and Tenn?” The question sounds more accusatory than you intend it to because, at heart, you can feel the birth of sympathy push through your soul.

“Aren't you?” Ryuu asks, sounding as confounded as you feel.

“I like to think that I'm equally close to all of you. Sure, there are particular things that I have in common with each of you that separate us but that's to be expected. It doesn't mean I have stronger feelings toward any one person in the group. In fact, I'd say that if we're going off of likeness alone, I have the most in common with you.” You step forward and gently reach out to place your hand on Ryuu's arm. “What happened to make you feel this way?”

“It just seemed like you enjoyed spending more time with them. We're rarely alone together and I know that you devote time to be alone with Gaku and Tenn. I just assumed that you didn't like me as much.” Ryuu laughs nervously, but the reflection is only scratching at attempted humor. “It's stupid. I don't even know why I brought it up. Would you like something to drink?” Ryuu turns away from you and you can see the shades of his discomfort in the flush darkening the back of his neck.

You swallow your emotions and catch the edge of Ryuu's shirt between your fingers. The fabric rises just enough to reveal a sliver of sun-kissed skin but it catches your attention. You smooth moisture into your lips and when you raise your head, Ryuu is staring at you. “I don't think you're a good idea,” you bungle and quickly shake it off. “No, I mean, I don't think drinking is a good idea. But I like you. I like you just as much as I like the others.” You realize how dissected your admission sounds and feel heat climb up your throat and kiss the tips of your ears.

“You don't have to say that to console me. I'm not angry.” Ryuu's mouth curves into a half-smile but the melancholy in his eyes speaks volumes for his put-on acceptance.

“What makes you so sure that I'm being insincere?” You let your hand fall away from his shirt and frown. “I've never neglected to tell you the truth and I meant what I said. I like you just as much as I like Tenn and Gaku. I didn't realize that I'd been spending more time with them, but if I was, it's because I felt like I had to work harder to win them over. You and I kind of had this natural chemistry from the start. Whereas, I knew that it would take time for Gaku and Tenn to trust me. Or at least, be comfortable enough with me to share the emotions I use to create meaningful and personal lyrics.”

Ryuu's smile quirks into something genuine and the night swamping his vision turns to dawn. “I'm so happy to hear you say that. It's a huge weight off my shoulders.” Ryuu acts as if he's going to grab your hand but brushes his knuckles against the back of it instead. He peels his gaze away from your face and pins it on the reflective surface of the coffee table in lieu of eye contact.

“So what is it you wanted to ask me before?” you inquire, hoping to smooth over some of the tension turning to static between you.

“Oh, that.” Ryuu bites the inside of his cheek for a moment, his lambent eyes dancing with the flickering light originating at the oscillating ceiling fan. “I was going to ask you to act as a stand-in for the role of the best friend so I could practice. I'm afraid of what might happen if I show up tomorrow unprepared.”

“Ryuu, you don't have to be afraid to ask me for help. It's part of my job, especially now, and before all else, I would be happy to help you as a _friend_.” You put your whole will into the assertion of sincerity, not wanting Ryuu to backpedal into the waters of doubt. “That being said, I don't have any acting experience so you'll have to bear with me,” you supplement humbly.

Ryuu's expression morphs into one worn by a freebooter who's just discovered the treasure of Silver Shoals. “I just need you to read her lines.” He retrieves the script with a spurt of renewed energy and flips it open to the first tab, bright blue and wedged between overworked pages. He scans the text briefly before handing the book over to you. “Go ahead and start from here,” he tells you, pointing at the center of the page.

You read the line speechlessly and suppress the urge to giggle. It's not particularly amusing, honestly, it's not funny at all, but something about doing this with Ryuu is making you feel playful and sheepheaded. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you're supposed to be working right now.

“You're not going to hurt me, are you?” you ask, knowing full well that Ryuu wouldn't dream of hurting you and wondering how he's going to be able to pull off a role so unlike himself.

“It's always the same question. The same pathetic expression, the same stench of fear. You're just a carbon copy of all the other girls I've killed.” Ryuu strides forward, single-minded in his purpose and driven by professionalism. He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers cold against the line of your jaw. “Drop this cute little charade, girl. You don't have an inferiority complex, you're just inferior. You're an _imitation_ , a lesser version of Sara.”

“Why come after me then? Why not go after her if she's the one you want?” you snap, surprised at how easy it is to slip into the skin of a fictional character.

“You think that's what this is about? You think I have an interest in your best friend?” Ryuu emits a wave of cold laughter that sends a shiver down the length of your spine. “I don't _want_ anyone. What I do want is for her to wake up next to the corpses of all her friends.”

“Why? How can you be so cruel? What did she do that caused you to hate her this much?” You tear away from his grip and take several steps backward. Your back comes into contact with a stair handrail and you shudder at the contact.

“I know what you're thinking. Maybe you can blow through enough time that someone will come looking for you. Better yet, maybe you think that you can save yourself. That you can hold a conversation long enough that you can reach the good that _must_ exist deep down inside of me.” Ryuu lunges forward and cages you between his arms. “If only you could reach me. If _only_ you could help me see that there's another way.”

Ryuu plays the part well, and you would find it hard to believe that he struggled earlier if he hadn't expressed his misconception for the antagonist's aim. You feel his breath ghost your skin and you swear you can taste alcohol on your lips. You turn your face away from his own, naming it improvisation despite knowing that it's something else entirely.

“Please,” you whisper, closing your eyes on the tears you can't quite shed. “I don't want to die.”

“I'll make a deal with you then,” Ryuu says, leaning forward just enough to brush his nose against the low of your neck. The slide of contact coupled with his breathing makes you tremble, and when Ryuu's lips brush your earlobe, you can't silence the gasp that breaks into sound. “I'll torture you for a few remarkably long hours and you can tell me then if you still feel the same. It'll be a win-win situation.”

You press your free hand flat against Ryuu's chest and feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers. He's staring at you with dark eyes and a dangerous expression, and when you open your mouth to carry on your mind goes blank. You close your mouth and cast Ryuu an apologetic look.

“I forgot the line,” you say, turning to the book in your hand. You read the next several lines and feel heat flood your cheeks. “Actually, do you still need my help? It seems to me that you've pretty much nailed the character.”

“Really?” Ryuu seems taken by surprise and the ashes blanketing his gilded gaze are swept away by mirth. “I guess it's not so bad after all! Can we go just a bit longer? I was just starting to get a grasp on my role and I don't want to lose it come tomorrow.”

“Sure...” you trail off, biting your lip. “But I think we should gloss over this next part—just to make sure you have the later snippets down too.” You flip through the script and exhale a breath that had lodged itself in your lungs in the name of nervousness. “This looks good,” you say, skimming over the bottom-most part of the page. “We'll start here.” You realize that Ryuu hasn't agreed to the change of plans but you don't want to give him a chance to contest.

“What do you want from me? I'm not the innocent girl you think I am. If you want virtue then...”

“Do you honestly think I give a damn about virtue?” Ryuu interjects angrily. “I'd cut you open with seraph's wings if I could find a decent pair, but even angels have turned their backs on righteousness. Nothing is sacred anymore. I could smell sin on you the moment you stepped foot into that decrepit box you call home.”

Ryuu steps forward and you involuntarily take a step back. His gaze is piercing and his expression is calculative. The softness you're used to has turned knifelike, and even though you know that he's wearing a mask, you feel like you're riding on the sharp edge of a blade.

“You asked me what I wanted from you. I want you down on your knees. I want you to bleed for me.” For every step Ryuu takes forward you take two in the opposite direction until you have nowhere left to go. You press your shoulders against the hard resistance of the wall and feel a knot begin to form in the low of your belly.

Ryuu's trademark smile has turned crooked and wolfish, and you can see the sharp white edges of his canines when he comes to stand directly in front of you. “Where are you going to run off to? There's nowhere for you to go. I admit that I love a good chase but your time has run out, little mouse.” Ryuu fits his hand against the base of your throat, firm enough to press his fingers in against your pulse but not so unyielding that it compromises your breathing.

You whimper and close your eyes, unsure of how to express the proper levels of fear for a death you know isn't going to come. Your doubt is quickly negated, however, by the unpolished press of Ryuu's lips against your own. The kiss is insistent and almost violent, and when Ryuu's hands turn to fists around the fabric of your shirt, it shatters the casement that separates reality from fantasy.

You forget the book in your hand and it slips from your fingers with no way to call it back. It hits the floor with a dull thud and you cry out, strung high and keyed up. Ryuu nearly jumps back from you, his eyes wide and lips red.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern abating the harsh tones of pretend malice. He puts a hand on your shoulder and ducks his head to meet your eyes.

“I'm okay. I...I just wasn't expecting that.” You laugh and it sounds forced. Yet, if asked, you wouldn't be able to unravel your feelings from the makeshift noose you've been thrown even if it meant death. You're more shades confused than your skin is flushed. Your palms are beginning to sweat, and your heart is beating wildly your chest as if privy to an inside joke you've been shut out from.

“Are you sure you're okay? You look flushed. Do you have a fever? Are you sick?” Ryuu reaches out to press the back of his hand to your forehead and you inadvertently dodge his touch.

You don't have to face him to know that his expression has changed—you can imagine it as clearly as you can see your reflection in the picture frame hanging on the wall. You don't want to hurt his feelings—especially after his recent admission—so you try to bury your mistake with a flimsy excuse.

“I'm sorry! I just thought that if I'm coming down with something, you shouldn't get so close to me.” You take another step in the direction opposite to where Ryuu's standing as if to underscore your point.

“That's nice of you but I don't think it matters much at this point. If you were carrying something, I'd be more likely to catch it through the kiss we just shared.” Ryuu arches an eyebrow and the look on his face might be comical if you weren't approaching the rails of a fast-moving train toward hysteria. “What's really bothering you?” Ryuu rests his hands on the back of the sofa and waits for your answer.

“I'm not bothered...I just didn't expect you to kiss me like that,” you reveal, knees growing weaker by the second.

“But it's in the script,” Ryuu tells you, looking half-bewildered, half-wounded. “I didn't mean to cross any boundaries. I thought you were aware!” Ryuu pauses and you can't think of anything to say with your heart lodged in your throat and your stomach in knots. You feel like a fool for not realizing that Ryuu was simply dogging the footsteps of a fictional scene.

“I didn't read that far ahead,” you say, your voice barely scratching above a whisper.

“Was I that terrible?” Ryuu asks, his face falling.

You lift your head and regard him with an expression of incredulity. “No! It was nice!” You tent your hands your mouth and feel your eyes go wide with surprise.

“Wait, so you liked when I kissed you?” Ryuu exclaims, elated. But the excitement quickly slips from his face only to be replaced by the gloom of a wintry afternoon. “I was in character though. You just got caught up in the heat of the moment. I heard that can happen to people who are new at acting.” Ryuu is muttering to himself, almost as though he's forgotten about you entirely.

You let your hands fall away from your face and inhale a deep breath. “Ryuu.” It's all you say before you start closing the distance between you. “It had nothing to do with the scene. In truth, I sort of forgot we were even acting for a minute there.” You attempt to laugh but the nervous gesture sounds more like a hiss of staccato breath than an expression of amusement.

“Do you really think I'm capable of being such a terrible person?” Ryuu asks you, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, you big blockhead. I already told you that it has nothing to do with your character.” You shake your head and blow out a puff of air. “That's like suggesting that I can't tell the difference between night and day. I guess I just...”

Ryuu waits for your response, and when it doesn't come he closes the remaining distance between you, the space you couldn't quite grapple on your own. “Wanted it to be real?” Ryuu supplies, and the apprehension in his voice cuts through the backdrop of the room like a knife. He's putting his feelings on the line and you feel like he's just hewn through his chest to hand you his still-beating heart. His input is raw and thrown wide and above all else, it's right in so many ways you need it to be wrong.

Even with this knowledge, even with the myriad of warnings going off inside your head, and the presage of disaster flashing red behind your eyes, you feel your head bow in agreement.

“I'm sorry,” you blurt. “I know that I shouldn't be acting this way. I know that work has to come first and that I need to keep my personal feelings to myself.” You can hear how frenzied your voice has become and feel the familiar sting of moisture behind the fall of your lashes. You tell yourself that it's ridiculous to get so worked up over something so small but you can't see past what's right in front of you—literally.

Ryuu tips your head back and slides his fingers over your skin until he's cupping your cheek in his palm. “If the clouds grew heavy with moisture and you were standing in the middle of a field, you'd be soaked through by the rain and left like the tattered sky. Some things are going to happen no matter how hard you try to avoid them.”

Ryuu's fingers slip into the fall of your hair and though a bit offbeat, his words lend you a sense of comfort—or perhaps it's distraction. It doesn't matter either way because he's fitting his lips against the shape of your own and all you can think is how he tastes like caramel and flowers and summer nights.

He kisses you slow like honey and warm like the sun, his fingers moving against the base of your skull like fingertips tracing shapes in the sand. His tongue is textured like pilled silk but still softer than those of the other boys you've kissed. You move your mouths together like you've done this a thousand times before and you're at home with the ardency of his affection.

When you finally pull apart, a thin strand of saliva still connecting your swollen lips, you think you've forgotten how to breathe. You bow your head and rest cheek on the curve of Ryuu's shoulder. You manage a deep breath and feel it rush through you like a current of strength before you realize that your hands are clutching Ryuu's shirt, your fingernails biting into the fabric and knuckles white as if your grip the only thing keeping you upright.

“How far are we going to take this?” you ask, and your voice is so low it's a miracle Ryuu hears you at all.

“I'd never do anything you didn't want me to,” is Ryuu's answer, so sincere it almost hurts.

You lift your head away from Ryuu's shoulder and muster up enough courage to look him in the eye. “That's not what I asked you.”

Ryuu's complexion darkens and you can feel the heat coming off of his body in waves. “I don't know how to answer that.” He removes his hand from your hair and presses his index finger to your lips. He traces the outline of your mouth, his eyes tracking the movement as consideration works behind his eyes. “I've never been good at talking about these things. I prefer to let things occur naturally, then whatever transpires was likely meant to be.” He looks away from you and you note the mantle of pink climbing his throat. “That sounded a lot better in my head.”

“It sounded fine,” you tell him, hiding the manes of apprehension behind your smile. “I think it's a reasonable way to do things. I mean, considering where we stand in our professional lives and how things have evolved and please just kiss me again so I stop talking.”

Ryuu laughs as he tugs you into his arms and obliges your request. You twist his shirt in your trembling hand and needlessly tug him down into the kiss he's already initiated. You lift your free hand to his cheek, fingers stroking over feather-soft skin as he explores every inch of your mouth. His tongue traces the cool edges of your teeth and his breath dances with your own as you each pant for oxygen.

Ryuu braces one hand at the angle of your hip, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to press against bare skin. His other hand skims your side and traces the curvature of your spine until he's pressing his palm against the small of your back. Your lips are soft and full and Ryuu can't resist sucking the bottom line of your pout between his teeth. He gently nibbles on the tissue, drawing a whimper out of the dark of your throat. You crush the wrinkled cotton of his shirt in your fist and absentmindedly lift yourself up to him in a salacious offering.

Ryuu draws away after another moment or two—you're not even convinced that time is reality anymore—but you're the first to open your eyes. Ryuu's eyelashes are casting tiny shadows on his face and his lips are slightly parted for breath. There's pleasure penciled into the lines of his expression that paints him in a portrait of prurient perfection—and when he opens his eyes to catch you staring back at him, they're glazed with heat and drenched in desire.

“I want you so bad,” Ryuu rasps, his voice grating and low, magnetizing you directly into him. You wrap your arms around his back and feel the shift of muscle beneath his shoulders when he returns your embrace.

“I want you too,” you tell him, losing some of your restraint to the unseen power drawing you in.

Ryuu hums something unintelligible and lifts you away from the hard resistance of the floor, into the strong cradle of his arms. He carries you the short distance to the sofa and lowers you down onto your back, leaving your legs to drape over its blocky arm.

“You're aroused,” Ryuu purrs, something catching in his chest as his hands chase his eyes to the center of your chest. A weak moan vibrates the low of your throat; the remark alone is enough to spark heat in the low of your belly, but it's the sound of his voice that stokes the fire.

You steal a glimpse at your chest and note how visible your nipples are through the thin layers of cotton and lace. No sooner than you see the case for his comment, however, Ryuu covers your breasts with his large hands and begins massaging their weight with perfunctory impulse. He drags his thumbs over your nipples in tandem, each turgid nub drawing painfully tight at the contact.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and feel your back come away from the sofa, curving into his touch. He squeezes the soft tissue beneath his palms once more, then he slides the fabric hugging close to your skin up your stomach and over the swell of your breasts. He marvels at the sight before him for a brief moment, the scrutiny of his gaze adding to the flush dusting your cheeks.

“You're beautiful,” he says, the praise falling from his mouth like something to be revered.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, the bunched texture of your shirt propped up by the sweat that's risen to the surface of every pore. Ryuu moves forward and you let your knees fall open to accommodate him. He fits himself between your legs and drapes himself over your body. He places an open-mouthed kiss on your lips, as wet and suggestive as the arousal growing between your thighs.

You card your fingers through Ryuu's hair and draw him nearer, but the implication is superfluous because he's is already ducking his head to flick his tongue over a hard peak. He catches the tissue between his teeth and bites down gently, skin and lace trapped between pearly white and dusty rose. You tighten your grip on his loose strands and Ryuu takes your unstated need as a symptom for desperation. He fastens his mouth on your breast and dampens the mesh with saliva and unspoken desire. You whimper and push for more contact, and Ryuu switches to the opposite side to split his ministrations evenly.

Your breathing quickens and you've already grown dizzy on stale oxygen and oppressive air by the time Ryuu retreats. You're staring up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, watching gold drip down from the plaster as you ride out a full-bodied spasm.

Ryuu removes your hold on his hair and kisses the heart of your palm, calling you back to the present moment. Then he tugs his shirt off with a single hand and your attention is immediately fixed on the years of hard work implanted into his body. He's all hard lines and sinewy tissue, strength and power and determination, and you find that want to drag your tongue out across his flesh to taste every inch of his skin.

“I don't know how I've been able to hold myself back for so long,” Ryuu tells you, his voice raw and deep like it's being scraped out of his chest. “Just looking at you this way is enough to drive me crazy.”

You want to tell him that you feel the same but you don't trust your voice, so you nod in hopes that he'll be able to read the gesture for what it stands for. And whether he does or doesn't quickly becomes a thing of the past because he's hooking his fingers around the waistband of your pants to draw them down your thighs and over the angle of your knees.

Your mind slips into overdrive as you begin to fully register that this is really happening. You shiver under the cold hands of exposure and emit a high-pitched yelp when Ryuu fits his hand between your thighs. His fingers brush against the damp cloth of your panties, and if not for the support of the sofa you would have lost your balance to gravity.

Ryuu's lips curve into a smirk and somehow, with his fingers teasing you through a thin layer of fabric, it looks far more dangerous than it had before. “Would you like me to ask for permission or walk you through what I'm going to...”

“No,” you interrupt, groaning. “I don't want you to talk about it,” you tell him, hiding behind your hands.

Ryuu laughs and gently pushes you onto your back, bracing an arm at your side for stability. “You're so cute, ____. I like this side of you, but you don't have to hide from me.” His tone is level despite the fact that he's still caressing the heat between your legs. “I want you to be comfortable with me. I want to know that you want this as much as I do. Though, if this is anything to go by” –Ryuu presses his fingers against your slick entrance– “I think it's safe to say that you are.”

“What did I say about talking?” you complain, your speech muffled by the shelter of your hands.

“Okay, okay,” Ryuu surrenders calmly. “I'll just pretend like we've done this before and you can tell me if you need me to stop.” Without further ado, he tugs aside your panties and slides his middle finger up the center of your sex. He teases you for a moment, catching slick on his skin and stroking your flesh as if he's memorizing every inch. You exhale a trembling sigh and Ryuu slips a finger into your tight heat, crooking the digit in a way that makes your hands come away from your face.

You fit your fingers to the shape of his shoulder, digits meeting hard resistance as a soft sort of animal sound escapes Ryuu's mouth. It's apparent that he's enjoying every second of this but you don't have any qualms about letting him manipulate the strings of your control. You'd thrust them into his hands if it meant not having to let go of this feeling.

It's not long before you're writhing beneath him, feverish skin and trembling limbs cast under the shadow of his frame. Your nails are biting into his shoulder and your heels are pressing hard against the backs of his thighs. Your body is strung tight like a bowstring and your skin is glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. If this is just the start of things you can't imagine what state you're going to be in at the end.

Ryuu fits another finger in alongside the first, stretching you open and adding to the mounting pleasure that's rushing through you like an overflowing stream. He leans forward and flicks his tongue over a turgid peak as he begins to circle the edge of your clit with his thumb. Your mouth comes open for air and Ryuu is quick to slip his tongue past your lips. He kisses the breath from your lungs as he continues to work you open with long, slick digits—and it isn't until you flex your fingers to bruising that Ryuu forces his motion to stillness.

Your breath is cut by pleasure and your eyes won't focus on anything but the heat in front of you. You yearn to tell Ryuu that you want more, that you _need_ more, but he's slipping his fingers free of your cunt. The sensation he leaves you with isn't entirely unpleasant but you know that it won't last long. The absence of his touch is slowly grinding out the fire in your blood, turning flame and smoke over to the slow-burn of slag, still warm and resplendent in the radiance of your skin.

Ryuu trails several open-mouthed kisses up the valley of your breasts, relishing the steadying thrum of your heartbeat under his lips. He hums and falls in to the ecstasy of contentment when you slide your fingers through his hair, nails scraping against the line of his scalp. You rest your hand at the nape of his neck, stroking the baby-fine hairs that stick to his skin.

Ryuu drags the flat of his tongue up your chest, over the jut of your collarbone, and along the smooth column of your throat. He moves a hand up your stomach and over your chest to efficiently slip your shirt over your head, requiring very little help from you. He slides the edges of his teeth over your thrumming pulse and takes a moment to inhale your scent, nosing your neck as your hair tickles the contour of his cheek.

You can feel the frisson of heat that runs through your body at the contact, and it's pleasant enough, but you long for the stretch and the friction of Ryuu being inside of you. You think about trying to frame your lips around the words that beg for sexual gratification but Ryuu is already lifting himself up. He takes a step away from the sofa to steady himself and holds a hand out to you.

“I overestimated the potential of this sofa,” he says behind the white slash of a smile.

You reach out to accept his hand as if moving on autopilot. His grip is warm and inviting and you don't want to let go of it. You curl your fingers around the back of his hand and Ryuu looks at you curiously.

“I just like holding your hand,” you tell him, blushing and slightly breathless.

Ryuu looks down at your joined hands and you watch the corner of his mouth lift in a crooked grin. He laces your fingers together and kisses your knuckles. “Then I'll just have to manage with a single hand.”

Ryuu tugs you across the floor and when you reach the opposite side of the room, he spins you around and pushes your back up against the wall. You inhale a sharp breath of surprise and shiver as the cold contact of opposition touches your bare skin. Ryuu lifts your arms in tandem and pins your linked hands to the wall. He hooks a finger around the elastic of your panties and tugs at the pliable material in a gesticulation of unstated command. You miss the request, however, because you're too busy chasing the slow drag of his tongue between the seam of his lips.

“If you want me to fuck you, I'm going to need to get these off,” Ryuu states, twisting the fabric around his finger. It pulls tight against your skin and the friction burns in all the right places. You gasp and Ryuu picks up the sound like a bat skimming tall trees for insects to prey upon.

“Do you like that?” he asks you, and you wonder when the better part of his shame splintered off into bawdy confidence. His fingers flex and his grip tightens on your hand as he pushes it higher against the wall. He tracks the line of your panties to their center, his knuckles brushing the low of your belly when he tugs them higher. Your breath hitches and you can't manage more than a curt nod in response.

“You're gonna have to do better than that,” Ryuu teases, his voice rolling so deep you can almost feel the vibration of it tumble down your spine.

“Yes,” you answer, hissing the word like a serpent spits its warning. “But...”

Ryuu gives the fabric a quick pull and the traction is enough to part your slick folds, cotton dragging up your aching slit. You squeeze his hand and unthinkingly bring your thighs close together.

Ryuu emits a subdued chuckle and leans forward to press his forehead against your own. “I think you like when I don't play nice.” He tugs the elastic away from your skin and lets it snap back into place. “Now, what is it that you wanted to say?”

You shake your head as if the gesture will be enough to stave off his curiosity. Ryuu, however, is unimpressed, notwithstanding his expression—you know that it's not acceptable and if you want things to advance, you're going to have to confess.

“I was just...” you tremor as a spasm of desire thrums through you. “I want to do more with you,” you spill, words moving together like the prattle of water rushing over stones.

“Look at me,” Ryuu says, drawing back to offer you an inch of freedom.

You lift your head and Ryuu bends forward to place a chaste kiss to the base of your neck. He gently bites down on your shoulder, the skin between his teeth burning from the dull twinge of pressure. He flicks his tongue out against the ache and trails his tongue up your throat, over your chin, and across your lips. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Please don't make me,” you plead, body tense on a shiver.

“If you don't tell me what you want, how can I give it to you?” Ryuu asks, a slice of cruel pleasure in the question.

You feel as if you've jumped off a cliff and Ryuu's simply talking to you as you fall. You inhale a short breath and give in to the chill that twists around your spine. “I want you to fuck me,” you divulge, elocution hitting the ground in pieces.

“That's quite a dirty request coming from a girl like you.” Ryuu smiles and something predatory creeps in to the corners of his vision. “But who am I to deny a pretty thing such as yourself of her desires?”

Ryuu spins you around and shoves you up against the wall, unlacing your fingers to alleviate the strain between them. He yanks your panties down your legs and before you're able to kick them aside, he's rejoining your fingers, his palm pressing hard against the back of your hand. He fits his knee between your thighs and kicks apart your feet to widen your stance. His knuckles glance your backside and you hear the sound of his zipper coming down.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and suddenly you're able to hear every small detail in the scrim. The rustle of clothing, the tear of foil between teeth, the sound of latex against skin, the rate of Ryuu's breathing and the beating of your heart—the work of auditory impression at its finest. You think you can hear the ocean in the distance, threatening you on all four sides as the seabirds fly through the salty wind. The waves are breaking violently against the slippery rocks, embracing shores and crossing borderlines.

Your mind has turned into a visual masterpiece, and when Ryuu slides his fingers between your wet lips, slicking his fingers for his own gain, you nearly get taken by the sea. Your knees are weak and your body is inches from the precipice of convulsion. You can hear the liquid motion of his hand moving on his cock, base to tip, and you wonder if it's going to be enough.

Ryuu presses his chest flush to your back and you can feel his curled fingers against the underside of your ass. His cock, hot and heavy and hard in his fist, slides between your legs and you nearly bite clean through your lip at the contact.

The tips of your fingers and toes begin to tingle in expectation. Ryuu lines the head of his cock up to your entrance and you can hear the sound of your nails dragging against the wall. Ryuu pushes forward and into your wet heat, working himself deeper inch by delicious inch until he's fully seated inside of you.

“Fuck,” he breathes, lips moving against the nape of your neck. The word sounds like sin on his tongue and it makes your heart skip with the giddiness of innocent youth. He remains motionless for a moment, allowing your body to get used to the unfamiliar fullness reaching inside of you.

You reach behind you after you arrive at the limits of your control and drag your nails over the muscled curve of his thigh. “Ryuu,” you whisper.

Ryuu doesn't issue a verbal response but it's encouragement enough because he starts to undulate his hips. The temperance of his rhythm is torturous but you don't dare say anything to compromise his carnal charity. You remove the hand at his hip and press your palm against the wall, splaying your fingers against the sandy paint.

Ryuu moans deep in the shadow of his throat and buries his free hand in the fall of your hair. He twists it around his fist and tugs your neck back toward an angle of strain. He rolls his hips and thrusts into you like he's practicing the art of dance. He fucks into you deep and slow, each drag of his cock like a lingering touch meant to last.

It's choreography at its level best and just like a song changes its tempo, Ryuu begins to drive into you harder, his thrusts coming faster and more erratic. He untangles his hand from your hair and grips your hip instead, fingers digging future bruises into your skin.

You press your head against the wall, simultaneously alleviating the strain in your neck and cooling the fever-flush of your skin. You think a curse has been born from your lips as you press closer to the tacky perspiration clinging to Ryuu's skin. Your hips push back to meet his thrusts, sinking as deeply into your cunt as your body will allow. You feel your muscles tense around his straining member and his cock twitch and swell in response. It's a heady pursuit, one that has you breathing hard and Ryuu breathing harder.

Ryuu utilizes every grain of strength he has left as he gyrates his hips and slams himself home. He unknowingly pins his focus on the same bead of sweat that you have, tracing it's trajectory as it rolls down the curvature of your spine.

“I'm close” you exhale, and your voice cracks around a shiver in your throat.

The verbal concession spurs Ryuu on, turns merciless friction over to a sense of urgency. You begin to tremble almost uncontrollably as Ryuu snaps his hips forward, driving into you at an angle that has heat branching through your bodies and sweat trickling down his chest.

Each breath you achieve feels like you're suffocating, choking on overheated air and the redolence of sex—but the surge of sexual gratification is well worth every compromised breath.

Ryuu's fingers slide away from your hip and graze the inside of your thigh. You can feel your throat go tight on arousal and your vision waver as his long digits come into contact with your clit. Your legs are becoming weaker by the second and you don't know how much of you is left to be undone before you fall apart.

Ryuu's fingers begin to cramp and his palm is damp with sweat against the back of your hand. However, he doesn't relent until his stomach is in knots and electricity sparks heat up every segment of his spine. He can feel a rush of blood to his head and the liquid spill of release as he capitulates to his body's demands.

Your feet slide further apart on the polished floorboards and your spine arches as you throw your weight against the wall for stability. Your entire body has come alive with passion, all aquiver and overtaxed as a shudder of heat surges through your veins. You grind yourself down on Ryuu's cock as he works your clit into slippery submission.

You feel like you're running on fumes, burning right through the wall as you fall back into the warm embrace of Ryuu's arms. You whimper and moan and cry out, the intensity of your orgasm ricocheting off every raw nerve-ending in your body. Ryuu holds you fast, tight against the rise and fall of his chest. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, catching the tang of salt and sweat on his lips before finally separating your fingers.

“That was...incredible,” he admits timidly, after a moment of respite. His breath ghosts your ear as he promptly collects you in his arms. “Your body is like an instrument.”

You press your face into the crook of his neck as he carries you down the hall, wondering how he has enough strength left to do so. You hum something that you hope sounds like agreement and think to yourself: _I like the way your fingers played the chords._

* * *

Three days have passed since your tryst with Ryuu and you can't help but think that something has changed between you, and not for the better. Tenn and Gaku have been giving you strange looks and you can only hope that Ryuu hasn't let slip the details of that night. You can't imagine why he would but then, he's a rising star, extremely popular with women—he could have almost anyone he wanted. You feel like a fool, and whenever Ryuu makes an appearance, you can't help but make up an excuse to be elsewhere.

For the first time since you started working at Yaotome Productions, you cry wolf and trace your old steps home. You undress in the hall and stay in the shower until the water runs cold. When you pluck up enough confidence to look in the mirror, you don't recognize the person looking back at you. There's something different about your face, your expression, the pain behind your eyes, and the discountenance tugging at the dig of your mouth.

Then, by a fluke, it would seem, you're knocked sideways by the weight of realization. You watch your pupils dilate in the damp glass and your eyes go wide. You clutch at the towel wrapped around your frame and back away from the sink.

You swore that this wouldn't happen, you didn't even deem it possible. You burned the bridges between competence and your emotions and let them marry in the waters of your dogma. You let your feelings get in the way of work.

You fell in love.

* * *

You're sitting in the center of the recording studio, trying to think of ways to avoid Ryuu without looking overly suspicious. You jot down a few verses but they don't speak to you. You try to untangle your thoughts, to focus on the task at hand, but you can't focus when Ryuu is the song in your head that you can't get out.

You hear the door open and wait for TRIGGER to enter with the staff in tow. Ryuu enters first and you can see Gaku and Tenn in the background, each of them barely visible behind the doorframe.

You don't intend to meet his gaze and you wish that you could take it back when you do because he looks almost as wounded as you did last night. You swallow thickly and turn your attention back to the paper spread out in front of you.

The door clicks shut and you hear the lock mechanism working on the opposite side of the wood. You rapidly raise your head and look at the closed door, then to Ryuu, so concerned about the ending that you don't even remember the plot. You slide out of your seat and feel your pulse quicken.

“What's going on?” you ask Ryuu, voice shaking with apprehension.

“I think Tenn and Gaku want us to talk,” Ryuu says, the barest hint of a blush creeping up the base of his throat.

“So you told them,” you accuse, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt.

Ryuu scoffs and it's a sound so unsuited to him that it takes you by surprise. “Do you really think that little of me?” And the suggestion alone seems as if it has the ability to break his heart into pieces.

You feel guilt run through you and the storm that commences so suddenly is one of great remorse. “I guess I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. It's just that Tenn and Gaku kept looking at me strangely like they knew something, and you kept avoiding me after and...” You let the sentence die in your throat, afraid that the emotions welling in your chest are going to spill into disclosure you're not prepared for.

“I didn't tell them anything and I certainly wasn't avoiding you! Anesagi has been keeping us busier than ever. If I've been keeping my distance it's certainly not by my choice.” Ryuu steps forward and pulls a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. “This is probably why Tenn and Gaku have been paying more attention to you,” he suggests and hands you the white square.

You unfold the piece of paper and see his schedule, the same one you've seen so many times before—but when you take a closer look, you see your name in the place of occasional outings and his days off. You lift your head and look at him directly. “I don't understand,” you tell him, cautious and quiet.

Ryuu smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. He steps forward and takes your shoulders in his hands. “I've been dying to spend time with you since we...” His cheeks blossom into the same shade of pink that Spring brings when the cherry blossom trees burst into life. “I've missed you terribly, and not just the intimate things. I miss your company, the sound of your voice, the way you look when you laugh, your guidance, the touch of your hand...I miss it all.”

Ryuu tucks a stray section of hair behind your ear and offers you a consolatory smile. “I didn't tell Tenn or Gaku anything, but they're not stupid. They don't know the details but they know that something happened between us. That's why they locked us in here.”

“And you didn't have anything to do with that?” you ask, arching an eyebrow and still clutching Ryuu's schedule.

Ryuu lifts his hands in a show of surrender. “I solemnly swear that I had no idea. They told me that we were needed in the studio for...well, they didn't get that far,” he reveals and you can't help but laugh.

“That's so like you,” you needle, shaking your head slowly. _At least they thought to give me a reasonable excuse._

“They told me you would be here,” he admits. “I couldn't go another day without talking to you.” He follows the delicate curve of your shoulder up to the side of your neck, his fingers cold when they curl against your skin. “I couldn't stand the thought of you rejecting me.”

You bow your head and feel tears collect along the lines of your lashes in the shape of an apology. “It's quite the opposite, actually.” You inhale a deep breath and prepare yourself for the long fall. “I've always been scared of loving someone more than I'm loved in return. It's selfish and I shouldn't have avoided you because I let myself lose control. I crossed so many boundaries and I'm so sorry.”

You don't feel the salt-damp rivulets beading down your face until Ryuu sweeps them across your cheeks. “And I told you that sometimes things happen that we can't control.” Ryuu takes your face in his hands and tips your head back. “If loving me causes you pain then I'll let you walk out of this room without another word. But if you're willing to give me a chance to show you how much I have to offer you in return, then I want you to be mine from this day forward.”

“Do you truly mean that?” you ask him, voice as unsteady as the moisture clinging to your lashes.

“Cross my heart,” Ryuu says, smiling and looking over your shoulder at the mess of papers on the table. “Is that the title of my next solo?”

You laugh and shake your head, sniffling. “No. It's a work-in-progress, and honestly, it's terrible.”

“I doubt that, but if that's how you feel, then we'll just have to be the work-in-progress that becomes your crowning achievement,” Ryuu declares proudly.

“That was remarkably cheesy,” you say, biting back a smile.

“Yeah, it was,” Ryuu laughs. He smooths his thumbs over your cheeks and moistens his lips. “Maybe I could just stop talking and kiss you like I did before.” It's spoken like a statement but you know that he's asking your permission.

You look at his schedule and pretend to mull it over. “I don't know, it says here that you're supposed to be getting ready for a variety show recording.”

Ryuu tries to look tolerant but you can see how downcast he feels behind the constellation of his eyes. You smile and take a step forward to wrap your arms around his waist, inviting him closer. “But I wouldn't say no if you wanted to.”

You watch his face brighten and everything in the space between you seems to get lighter. The love in his eyes is foiled in gold and when he tugs you into a languid kiss meant for nights under starry skies, you lose yourself to distant solar systems.

And sometimes getting lost is the best thing you can do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
